Persistent Memory
by FusseKat
Summary: Goren and Eames investigate a kidnapping and bomb threat that may be tied together with a group of Hudson University students. The investigation is derailed when Goren is shot. I envision this taking place sometime during Season 6.
1. Chapter 1

All rights belong to Dick Wolf, NBCUni and its affiliates. No infringement is ever intended.

Goren and Eames investigate a kidnapping and bomb threat that may be tied together with a group of Hudson University students. The investigation is derailed when Goren is shot.

I envision this taking place sometime during Season 6.

* * *

Chapter 1

"Darrell is the key to this whole thing, I guarantee it," Bobby said as he popped up out of his chair and began pacing back and forth. He rubbed at his chin several times as he walked, finally turning to Eames, waving his index finger in her general direction. "All we need is a little more evidence and we can get him and his rich friends off the streets. We just need that one . . . something . . . that ties everything up in a neat package." _What am I missing?_

Eames rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, mostly for Bobby's benefit. She shook her head as she watched Bobby start pacing again. He was driving himself crazy over yet another case. She wasn't sure he hadn't been up here all night sifting through the evidence gathered so far. He didn't look as if he'd shaved or slept and he'd barely eaten three bites at lunch. The case had been hanging over their heads for over a month, so it was inevitable. It was time to close this case.

It had actually begun almost six weeks ago with the kidnapping of a twelve-year-old girl. Her parents were financially well off, but far from rich, and the ransom had been a moderate 250,000 dollars. The family had quickly paid it and the girl was safely returned, frightened but unharmed, before the family contacted the authorities. Once the girl had been returned, the family called authorities in the hope that now they would now investigate and get not only the kidnappers but the return of the ransom money. Unfortunately, there was little to go on, and what evidence had been found was tainted or useless by the time the FBI and NYPD was informed. The case came to NYPD's Major Case at the special request of the Mayor, who had received a rather large donation from the girls' grandfather during his last bid for re-election.

A seemingly unconnected bomb threat followed a week later, targeting a diplomatic conference of international speakers at the convention center. Bobby had been able to connect the two events based on the partial description from one of the security guards at the convention center and the description given by the young kidnap victim. The threat had been just that, no explosive devises were found, leading to speculation that the incident had actually been a test of the response by the federal and local authorities.

Then, a second kidnapping came two weeks after the bomb threat. The sixteen-year-old daughter of a real estate developer was taken from a classmate's birthday party at a local country club. The parents called in the FBI immediately, who in turn had alerted NYPD. Even though the ransom drop failed to take place, the girl had shown up at a bus station outside the city just where the kidnappers had said she would, once the ransom was paid. This time the girl had been beaten. She was told to tell the authorities the beating was payment her family not following their instructions and bringing in the FBI and NYPD, and for the bungled drop off of the ransom money.

But the second kidnapping had yielded a starting place. From talking to the girl, they had were able to find the old, abandoned house she'd been kept in. The kidnappers were prepared and careful. The house had been torched a few hours before CSU teams reached the site. Kerosene and gasoline had been a very effective accelerant – the only item surviving the fiery inferno was a rare and expensive watch found wedged between a countertop and an old refrigerator in the kitchen. Protected by the huge appliance, it received minimal damage.

Once again, Bobby's attention to detail and incredible memory had provided them with a lead. Bobby sat staring at the watch that had been found, flipping it over repeatedly while he mumbled to himself, trying to remember why the watch seemed familiar. _The watch… a suspect… an interview... about WHAT?_

Eames had watched him, fascinated despite herself, as he questioned himself about why the wristwatch looked so familiar. Then, he'd jumped up and announced to no one in particular, "That's it." He ran to his desk and pulled out his copies of notes taken during an interview from almost a year ago.

"See, Eames, here… in my notes. ..."_air of privilege,_ _condescending, flippant"_... '_Vacheron & Constantin_ _18K gold wrist watch'_ _(vintage, circa 1959 - Today's value 8000.)_ "I had to look up the date of the last part of the information, but it's the same watch. Now, why would someone leave a watch like this behind? It's rare, very distinctive. If it's seen, it's going to be remembered. The watch had to have been left there for a reason. To implicate someone else? Throw suspicion on one of the crew? Whatever the reason, it was no accident. How or why it was left behind?"

Bobby had first noticed the watch during an interview with Chase Hayden, the son of CEO, Scott Hayden of Hayden Industries. They interview had taken place during the investigation in the death of an undercover ATF agent. Hayden Industries had been implicated in the smuggling of weapons to drug dealers in South America. Eventually every lead the department had, dried up and nothing had come of either case, neither the NYPD nor ATF had been able to discover a likely suspect in the murder case. After the death of their agent, the ATF's case against Hayden had come to a dead end also.

Now, in this case, Scott Hayden had immediately hired the prestigious law firm of Hastings & Janofsky to run interference for Chase. The family, insisted the watch must have been stolen several months earlier when their East Hampton home had been broken into, even while pointing out there was no way to be sure the watch they now had in evidence had ever belonged to Chase Hayden. The home had been broken into, a police report at the time confirmed this, although the watch hadn't been listed as part of the insurance settlement.

During the investigation into this lastest series of related event the detectives discovered that Chase Hayden, now a senior at Hudson University, was a part of a group of super-rich college boys that ran wild, according to the other students and several of the faculty. The group comprised of four young men included, Chase Hayden, Thomas Keller, Connor Jameson and Kylan Jensen and they viewed themselves as privileged and elite. (Something that Goren had sensed earlier in Hayden). As a group were rude and disrespectful to the professors and staff, terrorized other students and cheated on just about every exam or quiz. Grades and education appeared meaningless to this crowd as was responsibility for their actions. They had been caught vandalizing school property once, but a sizable contribution from several of the parents had the Dean of Students rescind his decision for disciplinary action at the school and the charges of vandalism being dropped against the young men.

The more the detectives looked at the young men, the more convinced they became that the group, known as the Group of Four was responsible for the two abductions and bomb threat as well as a rash of burglaries in the area. Eames had been able to get several leads linking the group to the series of burglaries, but nothing that would stand up in court. So far, they didn't have enough to convince the DA to go to the grand jury. The phalanx of H&J lawyers circling the Hayden family was now effectively hamstringing the detective's efforts. The other three families had lawyers waiting in the wings, if needed.

Bobby maintained they were still missing the big picture. He was convinced that none of the boys was smart enough or organized enough to have come up with the intricate plan necessary to execute the kidnappings. They were still looking for someone more disciplined and focused. They had finally discovered there was one low-key and often forgotten member of the group who didn't seem to fit in. He was at Hudson on a full academic scholarship, his family wasn't wealthy and he kept his ties to the Group of Four very low profile. Darrell Griffith, was actually the fifth member of the group. He was a year older than the other boys, but only in his Junior year. Griffith was a Criminal Justice major and classmates in his Criminology classes described him as smart, quiet, and intense. Unfortunately, the detectives had been unable to locate Darrell so that they could interview him. They were planning on going back out to the university this afternoon, they had an appointment set up with several of Griffith's professors.

"Goren, Eames!"

The two detectives looked up as Captain Ross approached and handed Eames his scribbled jottings. "Another bomb threat was just called in, this time it's at the Federal Express distribution center at 34th Street and 11th Avenue."

Goren and Eames were already headed for the door when Ross yelled after them, "Vests! Both of you. No jumping the gun, here. Let ESU do their thing and stay out of their way."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

The detective's SUV was waved through the police barricade blocking off the street at 10th Avenue, and straight into the controlled panic of the evolving incident. Scattered along this industrial section of the west side, were dozens of fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars. The Emergency Services Unit already had men entering the building. Lieutenant Casey Michaels, the ESU commanding officer on scene walked over as he recognized the two detectives.

"Hey Alex, Bobby. What brings you two out here on a day like this?" As they got out of the car, Goren and Eames reached back for their vests. Bobby pulled off his jacket, tossed it into the back seat of the car, and strapped on the Kevlar vest.

"How did you guys get here so fast and what do we know so far?"

Lieutenant Michaels motioned toward the chaos around them. "We were on our way back to the office when the call came in and just happened to be close. Fire department is clearing out the last of the people in the building and they've started their sweep of the upper floors. ATF and Homeland Security are fighting to take control." He shook his head in disgust. He didn't care who was in charge, who got the credit or the blame, he just wanted to stop something bad from happening.

Bobby nodded as he finished fastening the vest and began checking his weapon. "What did the threat say?"

Lt. Michaels sighed, "Attwell is here and being very large and in charge, taking on the Feds. You'd better talk to him." Deputy Commissioner George Attwell was a glory hound and every chance he had to get out to a scene, 'take charge', and be seen by the press he was there. The man never failed to make any scene and investigation he inserted himself into just a little more difficult and high profile. Every detective in the city would cringe as soon as he was spotted at his or her crime scene.

"Great," muttered Bobby. "Tell me he doesn't have that stupid cowboy hat on."

Michaels grinned and nodded. "Oh, yeah, and he's wearing the boots too."

Bobby groaned. Attwell was originally from Texas and was convinced if you wore a cowboy hat and boots that meant you were a man to be reckoned with. He only put on the hat in public when he wanted to make a statement. Bobby thought the statement he actually made was 'look at the redneck sheriff trying to be a big city cop'. Bobby turned to Eames. "Maybe you should stay back here, in case this gets ugly."

"Attwell's involved, so it's already ugly."

Bobby grinned at her. _That was good, and accurate too. _"You know what I mean. I don't want to have to worry about you. You're liable to take his head off, after last time..."

Eames' smile turned quickly into a scowl. "We'll discuss how many times the situations been reversed over the years later, but for now my answer is _then don't worry._ I'm a big girl, Bobby, you should know that by now, and I can take care of myself. Besides, I have to worry about you all the time, so why shouldn't it work the other way?"

Bobby sighed and looked up at the building, then back to Eames. "Fine, why did I even try?"

Eames shrugged her shoulders as they began to walk toward the man in the cowboy hat who seemed to be the center of attention. "I have no idea, but it wastes a lot of time."

ooOOoo

George Attwell was five feet five inches tall if he stretched, with a large round belly and skinny legs. Most of those in the department who'd ever met him referred to him as Mr. Potato Head behind his back, or sometimes Sheriff Potato. He was rude, abrupt and took credit for work that wasn't his, which explained his current position of authority. That and he had a reputation for brown-nosing surpassed by none.

Attwell glared at both detectives as they drew closer. "Goren. Eames."

Bobby returned the sentiment. "Attwell. What did the caller say?"

"You can go home now, Goren, we have this under control."

Bobby took a deep breath, remembering Ross' speech about trying to get along with his superior officers. "We think this is related to a case we've been working on for over a month. If it is, the violence level has been steadily escalating and these guys are under the gun. There's a very real chance this isn't a hoax. Did they ask for money?"

Attwell's second-in-command was a seasoned cop named Jerrod Neal. He was about a foot taller than his boss and slender without being skinny. His broad shoulders spoke to his strength and the excellent shape he kept himself in. Neal was a likeable guy who thought all cops should work together to keep the bad guys in check and not worry about who got the glory. This meant he'd gone as far up the ladder of political success as he was going to go.

"I don't give a rat's ass what you think; we're working this case the way I see fit." Attwell was working up to a full-blown red-in-the-face shout out when Neal interrupted. "There are issues here that are greater than any case you may have detectives, I'm talking about implications to Homeland Security. They along with ATF are working with my office..."

Alex bristled, "and your office would be a part of NYPD and as detectives with..."

Neal stepped between Eames and Attwell, "Sir, what will it hurt to share information with them? If they've working something they think fits, it'll only help us catch these preps quicker. Maybe we can get out of this with the building left standing. That'll only make our job easier and the commissioner and mayor will be very happy if no one is hurt and the building isn't blown up." Neal had been at this a while and he knew just what to say.

Attwell stuttered for a moment and then began to sulk. "Fine, but you get their information. I have important business to attend to." With that, Attwell stalked off towards the ATF's command vehicle.

Neal nodded and led Bobby and Eames several feet away.

"Thanks," said Bobby, shooting Eames a look.

Neal shrugged his shoulders. "If you guys know something that can help, I don't see any reason to shut you out. The caller said that an explosive device had been planted and would go off sometime before dark, at his discretion. If we didn't want people killed, we'd better clear the building and evacuate the area. He wanted five hundred thousand dollars wired to an out of country account before," Neal used his fingers to make air quotes, "he got bored."

Eames and Bobby exchanged a look. "Sounds like it could be our guys," she said.

ooOOoo

"Jenny!" The shrill panicked voice cut through the surrounding noise like a beacon. They all looked around to see a young woman trying to break away from two police officers, sobbing and screaming as she struggled. Bobby immediately dodged through the cluster of emergency personnel to get to the woman just as the police partially calmed her down.

"What's the problem?" he asked sharply.

The distraught woman grabbed the front of his vest. "Jenny is missing. We got separated on the way out and I thought she was with my mother, but she isn't. I think she's still inside. Please, you have to get her out. She's only six."

Neal got on his radio, trying to find out if the girl had wound up with the small group of people that had been evacuated, but had become separated from their family or friends. Bobby pushed his way to the front of the crowd, studying the front of the building. He stepped out of the crowd and moved closer to the building, particularly focusing on the door. Not knowing why he did so, but he stopped and turned his attention to the vacant building next door. His attention was drawn to the sign posted in the courtyard of the building. The building was scheduled for implosion the following week. As he thought about that, a child came stumbling out of the door less entry of that building, right before his eyes. Jenny. Bobby ran towards her.

Bobby didn't know why he felt the sense of urgency that he did, maybe it was just seeing the scared little girl. He sprinted over to the girl, quickly covering the distance between them. As he bent down to scoop up the child, he spotted shadowed movement from the back of the building in his peripheral vision. Needing to get the girl out of danger and back to her mother, he didn't have time to investigate, so he wheeled around and ran back toward the crowd in the street with the crying child cradled in his arms, his lungs beginning to burn. He was halfway between the building and the safety of the emergency equipment when something struck him in the head and everything went immediately black.

ooOOoo

Eames watched as Bobby took off across the open space in front of the buildings and was surprised when he headed toward the empty one. It had happened to quickly for her to begin to comprehend what he was thinking. It was almost as if his breaking into a run had been a reflex action. The speed with which he was covering ground made her nervous, as if he knew something she didn't. She didn't see the girl until he had almost reached her.

"Jenny!" The panicked woman was still jumping up and down and screaming just two feet away. She grabbed Eames by the arm and shook her soundly. "That's Jenny, he has my Jenny."

Eames took a firm hold on the woman's wrist and tried to calm her. "My partner won't let anything happen to her," she said, hoping to calm the woman.

The sudden and sharp crack that echoed through the air was followed by an eerie silence. She watched in shock as Bobby's body jerked back at an angle and fell limply to the ground. She stood frozen to the spot, waiting on him to move. After a few seconds, people around her began to move forward as the now screaming girl rolled away from Bobby's still form and began running toward her mother, who had also surged forward.

"Bobby," she finally whispered roughly, shaking the numbness away. She took a few steps, intending to follow the emergency personnel that were running to her partner in crouched positions. The next thing she knew, the ground rocked violently and it sounded like the world had exploded. She was thrown to the pavement along with those around her as a series of boom, boom, booms threatened to shatter her eardrums. Her first thoughts were, _Not again, no not again…_

When the shaking and noise finally stopped, she looked up to see that the abandoned building was now a smoking pile of rubble. The paramedics and police officers that had started for Bobby had now reached him and began moving some of the smoldering and burning rubble that landed around him. Eames couldn't tell if any of debris had hit him or not.

Sounds shrieked all around her. Alarms, sirens, people screaming, debris still fluttering down to hit things. Smoke and ash billowed out, making it seem like she was in a dense fog, one that burned the lungs. She couldn't think and she couldn't breathe. She looked up again, trying to see Bobby, but all she could see was heavy, black smoke in the direction where he'd been lying motionless on the ground. She wondered if he was alive as the cloud of darkness overtook her and the chaotic sounds faded away.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

A coughing spell brought Eames to consciousness and she was immediately aware of hands helping her sit up, supporting her as she tried to breathe in air filled with ash, with lungs that felt full of hot ash. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled and she felt something pressing against her face. When she took a swipe at the offensive object, hands shifted to pull her arms down. She faded for a few minutes and then realized that she could breathe again. It still felt a little like someone was sitting on her chest, but at least she was getting some much-needed air. As cool clean air filled her lungs, she felt herself slide away from the noise surrounding her.

"Eames, can you hear me?"

She recognized the voice. Mike Logan. _What was Logan doing here? Where was here? _She fluttered her lids, concentrating to will her eyes to open. "Logan?" Her voice was rough and raspy. Her throat was dry and felt raw.

A relieved smile crossed his face. "Yeah, it's me, Eames. Just take it easy, the doctor says you're going to be fine."

Eames' mind finally caught up to the fact that she was lying on a gurney in an emergency room. The head of the bed was elevated, no doubt to help her breathe, and an oxygen mask was the intrusive apparatus she'd felt on her face. Looking around, she took in the fact that she was wearing a hospital gown and that she was connected to a cardiac monitor. Another monitor was clipped to her finger and someone had started an IV in her other arm. _Now I know why Bobby says he hates these things._

"What happened?" she asked, her voice sounding odd and muffled under the mask.

"You don't remember?" Logan asked.

Eames frowned and tried to settle her thoughts. Her eyes suddenly shot open as the last scene she remembered played through her mind; Bobby being thrown to the ground by some invisible force. "Bobby!" she cried as she tried to push back the covers and sit up. Logan pushed her back down, holding her shoulders.

"Eames, you need to lay still. Calm down." Another set of hands joined in as Logan pleaded with her to settle down. A nurse had come running over to the room she had been set up in, and was also trying to keep her in bed. Her strength finally giving out and Eames relaxed and settled back against the pillows. Logan and the nurse let her go and stood back up.

"Detective Eames, you really need to stay still," the nurse admonished as she checked the monitor connections and the IV line. "You took in quite a bit of smoke."

"Sorry… I need to check on my partner, Bobby Goren. Something happened… he went down like was he shot?" She had no other answer for the way his body had been propelled backward.

The nurse paused for a moment. _I wonder if that's the poor man in three? Was he shot in the head? He'll be lucky if he makes it through the night. _"Uh, I'm not really sure . . . but I could check for you." _I hope that's not him, sweetie._

Eames focused on controlling the rising panic, but the heart monitor was giving her away. Logan reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. "Please, could you see if he's… okay?"

The nurse glanced at the racing monitor and then back to Eames. "I will if you'll try to calm down. There's no use panicking before we know anything, right? But before I go, let me switch you off this mask so you'll be more comfortable. You're oxygen levels are much better now." The nurse removed the mask and replaced it with nasal cannula, adjusting the placement around Eames' head. "There, now you just rest and I'll check on your partner."

Eames watched as the nurse left and then looked up to find Logan watching her. "Do you know anything?" Her mind immediately envisioned what the scene in the emergency room might have looked like. An image of a man being rushed through the halls of the hospital, face covered with an oxygen mask and bloody dressings hiding most of his head, save for a small patch of graying brown hair sticking out of the top of the mess of bandages. The shirt pulled open and his chest bared, with heart monitor pads plastered among the grime and bruises. As the gurney disappears through a pair of swinging doors, the sound of the monitor alarms begin to blare over the shouts of the doctor running along side the stretcher.

Eames repressed a shudder as she gasped reflexively, sitting bolt upright in bed as Logan winced. "Is he..?"

"I don't know, Ross is there trying to find out. He said he'd come back and let me know," he said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms protectively around her. She leaned against his chest, burying her face in his shoulder, thoughts of Bobby possibly dying filling her with tremendous grief. She was shaking, crying, and terrified, for both her partner and for herself. Bobby had filled a gap in her life that had threatened to swallow her up. One that she didn't think anyone else would ever be able to replace. Once they had gotten over the initial awkwardness, they had clicked, becoming comfortable with each other with stunning ease. There had been periods of awkwardness since, but they had been able to get past these tests and actually had a stronger partnership and friendship because of them.

"Eames, remember what the nurse said, 'There's no use panicking before we know anything'."

She pulled back as the nurse entered the room, Dr. Kirkus right behind her. She was almost relieved at the sight of the familiar face, remembering the physician from when Bobby had been injured in a shooting several months earlier. What she didn't like was the serious expression on her face.

"Dr. Kirkus, how's Bobby?" she asked as Logan helped ease her back against the pillows.

Dr. Kirkus checked her monitor readings and lines as she spoke. "I'm glad you to see you awake, Miss Eames, I was becoming quite concerned." When she seemed satisfied with her readings, she stilled to face her. "I'm afraid your partner's injury was very serious. I wasn't his doctor this time around, but I know he suffered a bullet wound to the head and that they've taken him to surgery. I haven't seen the x-rays, so I can't even make a guess about the prognosis."

Eames sighed and closed her eyes, wishing she would open to find this had all been a horrible dream. "He's tough, Eames," said Logan, taking her hand and squeezing it.

She opened her eyes and wiped the tears that continued to well up in her eyes. "I know."

Dr. Kirkus pulled her stethoscope from around her shoulders and moved them to her neck. "I need to take a listen to those lungs of yours." Eames sat silently as she moved the stethoscope bell around her chest and side and then had her lean forward so she could listen at her back.

"Sounds much better, but I'd still like to keep you overnight for observation. You were pretty out of it when they brought you in and I'm told you were pretty close to ground zero."

Eames frowned and shook her head, stopping as the movement sent needle sharp pains through her temples. "No, I don't need to stay, I'm fine. I need to be with Bobby."

Kirkus let out a breath and shook his head. "No, you need to be in a room being monitored. When Detective Goren comes out of surgery, they'll first have him in recovery for several hours. There are absolutely no visitors there. Then he will be transferred into ICU, which has very limited visiting hours, which they are very strict about keeping. I'll make sure the surgeon comes to talk to you as soon as they finish up, but I need you to stay in bed."

Logan placed a hand on Eames' arm. "I'll make sure she stays put, doctor."

ooOOoo

Shortly after Eames was settled into a room, Logan's cell phone rang. He talked for a moment and then hung up as he turned back to Eames. "That was Ross. He's on his way up."

Eames nodded, relieved that maybe she could finally find out exactly what had happened. Ross entered a few minutes later, looking more disheveled than she ever remembered seeing. He studied Eames as he walked across the room. _At least Eames looks like she's going to be okay. What a mess this was turning out to be. _

"Eames… Alex, how are you feeling?" Ross asked nervously.

"I'm fine, just a little too much smoke. What . . . what happened out there?"

_A disaster, but it could have been worse. _Ross rubbed his forehead a couple of times as he took a deep breath. "Lt. Michaels and Lt. Neal have been working with your and your partner's notes and think they've come up with a new working theory. They're pretty sure it was the college gang you and Goren have been investigating. Thomas Keller and Connor Jameson were arrested trying to slip out of one of the buildings across the street from the FedEx complex. Connor Jameson was carrying a rifle and scope. Ballistics has the rifle, they're just waiting for ..." Ross looked at Mike, looking for support, "...for a sample to compare with the other shells in the rifle. We know one of them as the triggerman that shot Detective Goren, but so far neither one of them is talking."

"Why would they do that?" asked Eames. "Why would they go after Bobby?"

Ross shrugged his shoulders. "Coincidence and bad luck. They couldn't have specifically been targeting Goren. They had no way of knowing you two whould be at the scene. They might just have been trying to stir things up. When he made the run for the girl he made himself the perfect target. They had the explosives set in the abandoned building next door to confuse us, which worked spectacularly."

Eames suddenly sat upright. "The girl. What about the girl Bobby went after?"

"She's going to be fine," said Ross. "Scratches and bruises and a few minor burns, but nothing serious. I think they're keeping her overnight for smoke inhalation as well, but the doctor said she should be released by tomorrow."

Ross's expression tightened, his jaw line stretching taunt. "She was bait. She said a man grabbed her during the evacuation and took her to the abandoned building. He waited until just before she was spotted to release her to send her out. Told her to go to the front of the building and call out and someone would come for her."

Eames clenched her hands in anger and felt her heart rate climb with her increasing tension. How could anyone use a child like that? "Do you know who it was? Which one?"

Ross nodded. "Based on her description, we showed her a picture of Darrell Griffith and she positively identified him as the man who took her." Ross smiled.

"Has he been arrested yet?" asked Logan.

"No, unfortunately he must have slipped out the back of the building before the shooting and before the explosion, escaping during the ensuing chaos. They think he must have left on foot and walked several blocks away where he had a car waiting, or simply got on a metro bus. On my way up here, I received a call from Lt. Michaels, they picked up Chase Hayden and Kylan Jensen at the Hayden residence. So far, ATF has found the same materials used in making the devices used today in Hayden's car and room; CSU is going over both for explosive's residue. I think we've got them nailed this time."

"Everyone but Darrell," said Eames forlornly.

"Him too when we catch him," said Ross. "When_ we_ catch him."

Eames smiled at his optimism, even thought she didn't feel it. Bobby had been convinced that Darrell was the brains of the operation, so she felt he probably had a contingency plan in place and was safely in hiding. But, he couldn't hide forever.

The door to the room opened and a woman in scrubs with her dark hair pulled up in a bun walked in. "I'm Dr. Gibson and I'm looking for Eames?" she ventured inquisitively.

Eames raised her right hand a few inches. "I'm Eames? Are… were you the surgeon who operated on my partner, Bobby… Bobby Goren?"

The woman smiled warmly as she approached the bed to stand beside the worried young woman. "Yes, I did, and I think I may have good news. As you know, Detective Goren had a severe head wound. The bullet struck in the left temple region about here," she said, pointing to the area about an inch left of her eye and continued to illustrate as she spoke.

"The bullet struck at about a thirty degree angle to the bone instead of a ninety degree angle, so it actually glided along the surface of the temporal bone here, before again following the bone as it curves back out and connects with the parietal bone. There it had enough force, that the bullet was able to penetrate and fracture the skull. By that time, the momentum and force had sufficiently dissipated so that the bullet didn't penetrate the brain. It merely entered the soft tissue surrounding the brain, thereby minimizing any resulting brain trauma."

At that moment, Eames actually began entertaining hope that she hadn't lost Bobby. In spite of her best efforts to remain optimistic, she had been almost convinced he would die up until this point. Looking slightly confused, she asked, "So, does that mean he'll be okay?"

The doctor gave a small, half-hearted smile. "It isn't a guarantee, but he has a very good chance, a very good chance. We've debrided the area, removed several bone splinters, and sewn him back up. A small portion of the bullet fragment went too deep for us to try to remove it without possibly causing more damage, so we left it in place. Something he'll need to be aware of in the future, especially if he's ever in need of an MRI or goin through airport security."

Eames' mouth dropped open. "You left part of the bullet in his brain?"

Ross smiled down at Eames. "We have war veterans all over the country with bullet fragments or shrapnel in their head, in their bodies. Sometimes it's less dangerous to leave it in place."

The doctor nodded. "The main danger of leaving it in place is infection. We've started him on a course of antibiotics already. The piece is very small and it's unlikely to ever cause him problems. He was lucky. An injury like this rarely presents with as little brain damage as he's experienced. We won't know anything for sure until he wakes up and we can do a full neurological work up and evaluation, but I think the prognosis for Detective Goren is relatively good."

Eames sighed and nodded. She was getting a good, hopeful feeling from the doctor and she tried to trust in that. "When can I see him?"

"I understand you're going to be released tomorrow. I've also been told that you two are close. He'll be in recovery until morning, after that we'll transfer him to ICU. I understand that you've been made aware of their limited visitation times. I know several of the nursing staff up there and I'll see what I can do to get them to allow you to take a peek if you end up being released between regular visiting periods. After that, you'll have to abide by their set times. I know that's difficult, but it really is in the best interest of the patient, and we all want what's best for Detective Goren." She smiled and patted Eames' hand. "Don't worry, they take very good care of their patients up there."

Eames nodded. "I know, I just . . . don't want him to wake up and be alone."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

Eames was nervous as she followed the nurse to Bobby's bed in the Intensive Care Unit. She couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped her when she first saw him. She could barely see any of him beyond the bandages covering the top of his head and the assortment of wires and tubes all around him that seemed to converge into a single monitor above his head. If the nurse hadn't assured her that the man in the bed was Bobby, she would never have known. Cautiously, she approached the bed, listening to the sound of the monitors doing their job.

"He's improved some since last night," offered the nurse. _I wish I could give her more encouraging news. Head wounds can be so difficult._

Eames tried to squeeze out a small smile for the woman's effort. "Thank you. Has he regained consciousness at all?"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I'm afraid not. That happens sometimes with head wounds like this. We're monitoring the intra cranial pressure closely. The doctor drained off some fluid and blood during surgery, but there's a still a chance of more swelling."

Eames nodded. "I appreciate you letting me see him. I just… after seeing him shot, I needed to see for myself that he was… "She almost said okay, but then realized that he wasn't okay. Alive was a more accurate description. She had needed to see that he was still alive because every time she had dozed off last night, she'd had dreams to the contrary. As difficult as it was seeing Bobby this way, it reassured her. There was hope.

"It's okay, I understand."

A slight groan caught both their attention, bringing them closer to the bed. Bobby moved his mouth in what looked like an aborted attempt at licking his lips. His upper lip twitched beneath the nasal cannula.

"Bobby, it's me, Alex. I'm here, Bobby, you aren't alone." She reached out, only to encounter a frightening mix of pain, confusion, and fear. The whir in her mind made her dizzy, so she pulled back, leaning heavily against the bed railing.

"Miss, are you all right?" The nurse was looking at her with concern in her face.

"Fine, I just got a little dizzy." She squeezed Bobby's hand. "Bobby, can you hear me? It's Alex, I'm here."

Bobby's eyelids fluttered a moment and another slight groan escaped his lips. He almost seemed to sigh before going still, both in body and in mind. Eames looked up at the nurse, who smiled at her. "Well, it's a start," the girl said.

ooOOoo

Eames stayed for the rest of the two-hour visiting period, after which she was ushered out to the waiting room. There she stayed, waiting, until time for the 2pm – 4pm visiting hours and repeated the whole process for the 7pm-9pm hours. The only reason she succumbed to the prodding of Logan to leave for the night was that Bobby had shown no further signs of waking. Logan had come by to be sure she had no plans of camping out in the ICU waiting room for the night, threatening to drag her to the elevator, if she didn't come willingly. She didn't have the energy to fight him and allowed him to escort her home.

"I try not to admit when you're right," she said testily as he escorted her from the building.

Logan chuckled. "Now that, I've noticed. Go home and get some rest. Bobby's in good hands."

Eames sighed. "I know." And she did know. She'd made sure of that every chance she got. Everyone she had spoken with had genuinely seemed to care about the patients in their ward and that had eased her mind. A couple of the nurses had seemed particularly concerned about Bobby, replaying news accounts they had seen about Bobby being shot as he rescued the little girl. She knew they would be keeping an extra close eye on him and she'd made sure they had her number if he needed anything.

Logan saw her home, again admonishing her to get some rest. She was surprised when she actually did sleep rather soundly. Apparently, smoke inhalation, huge amounts of coughing, and having nightmares all night the previous night while you worried about a friend took a lot out of you. After a solid nine hours of sleep, she was back at the hospital by 9am, an hour before the first visiting hours started.

From 10am-noon, she sat beside Bobby, holding his hand and talking to him as he slept. She repeated the cycle from 2-4pm and again from 7-9pm, without so much as a flinch from him. Her thoughts kept straying to the unimaginable - what she would do if Bobby never woke up - and spent most of her time trying to keep these thoughts at bay. Finally, the nurse came to tell her it was time to leave, catching her wiping her tears away with the hem of her shirt as those fears assailed her once again.

"Honey, I hate to tell you, but it's time to leave. I'm sorry."

Eames nodded, not trusting her voice. She started to relax her hold on Bobby's hand when she felt his tighten against hers for a moment. Her breath hitched as she shot to her feet and leaned over him. "Bobby, I'm here. Bobby, can you hear me?" She looked up at the nurse, who had come over to start checking the monitors. "He… he squeezed my hand."

Bobby coughed a little and shifted his head slightly, stopping almost instantly and squeezing his eyes tight as he grunted.

"Bobby, it's Alex, can you hear me?" Eames almost cried with relief. She could feel him fighting to get past the pain, to make some sense of what was going on.

"It's okay, Bobby, I'm here. Just hang in there."

Eames flinched away when the nurse touched her arm. "I'm going to get the doctor, I'll be right back." Eames nodded and went back to talking softly to Bobby. After a few moments, he finally got his eyes to stay open. He blinked, his eyes rolling a second before they focused on her, making her smile.

"What . . . happened?"

Eames felt like her stomach had taken a three-story fall. She watched as Bobby's eyes roved the room and land back on her. He didn't have any idea who she was. He seemed to know who he was, but not her. She barely noticed when the nurse returned with Dr. Gibson until they were right across from her.

"Bobby," the doctor said brightly. "Nice to see you awake." Eames watched in fascination as the doctor checked her patient's pupil reactions and had him follow her finger. She checked the monitors and asked Bobby about his pain level and what his name was. Bobby's answers were sluggish and slurred, but the doctor didn't seem concerned. She finally could stand it no longer.

"He doesn't know me," she said quietly.

The doctor frowned at her a moment and then looked down at Bobby. "Detective Goren, do you know what day it is?"

Bobby's face clouded and she could feel him struggling for an answer. "Not . . . sure."

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked.

Bobby closed his eyes as he tried to process the question. The flashes of firing synapses finally slowed until they solidified into a viable memory. "Going… to arrest…Nicole Wallace." The memory cut off abruptly at him looking at a little girl standing in a doorway.

Eames had to think. She found the doctor looking at her and she shrugged her shoulders. She opened her mouth to reply but stopped when she saw the doctor shake her head slightly, nodding toward the door. _Don't say it, not in front of him. Not yet._

Eames nodded and they both looked back down at Bobby, who seemed to be drifting off again.

"Bobby?" prodded the doctor. Bobby made a slight groaning noise before returning to the even breathing of sleep. Dr. Gibson took another look at the monitors and then turned to address the nurse. "Stay with him a few minutes." Eames then followed her into the hall outside the unit.

"Do you know what he was talking about?"

Eames sighed. "We arrested Nicole Wallace several times over the years, but not recently."

The doctor nodded. "I need to check on another patient and then I'll get back with you in a few minutes. How long have you been his partner?"

"Almost eight years… and he doesn't remember me. This isn't permanent is it? I mean, it'll come back to him, right?"

Dr. Gibson chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. _I hate these kind of questions. They're so hard to answer. _"Detective Eames… Alex…"

"Eames. It's just Eames."

Dr. Gibson smiled at her as she gave her a small nod. "Eames, then. It's hard to tell at this stage. A certain amount of memory loss after a severe head injury isn't unusual. Patients often lose several hours up to several days immediately before the injury, sometimes continuing into several days after the injury."

"This is more like amnesia than short term memory loss. For now, let's focus on getting him back on his feet."

Dr. Gibson nodded again, her easy manner and graying hair, reminding Eames of distant memories of her grandmother. She laid a reassuring hand on Eames' arm as she spoke, "I know and I understand that you're upset that he doesn't remember you. Many times the memories come back as the patient's condition improves. I'll be honest with you, though, there's no way to predict exactly what will happen. He may regain everything, or only bits and pieces, or nothing. Anything in between is possible as well. I'll see what I can find in the journals as this appears to be selective memory loss, but let's not worry to much, just yet."

The impact of knowing Bobby may never remember her or the things they had shared in the past hollowed her insides out, leaving her empty and scared. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that it was still better than losing him entirely, which she had almost done. They could rebuild…

"How long? If he's going to remember, how long will it take?"

The doctor gave her a kindly smile again and she sighed even before answering her. If the voice she spoke with hadn't given it away, her body language would have. "There is no timetable for this kind of thing. Things will happen in their own time." Then she shrugged her shoulders once. "Although it usually begins fairly shortly after the injury, the important thing is to be patient and don't push. Don't make him feel like he's doing something wrong because he can't remember. This isn't his fault."

Eames nodded. "I know." She suddenly looked up with concern. "What about his memory after he heals. I mean he won't suddenly not be able to remember things that happen day-to-day or anything like that will he? He's usually got this almost scary memory about things and it's… a very important part of him."

The doctor frowned and pursed her lips. "It's possible there could be some long term effects due to his injury, but I have no reason to particularly expect it. Let's not create more things to worry about. The main thing is to be supportive at first because he's going to be confused and frustrated."

Eames nodded again. She was beginning to feel like a bobble-head in a car on a gravel road. "Can I stay with him? I know you have the hours, very strict hours, but . . . he's so confused and scared and…"

The doctor shook her head and put one hand on Eames' shoulder. "Not tonight, but if he continues to improve, perhaps tomorrow we can bend the rules a little. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone there when he wakes up since he's so disoriented. But I'm wondering if it should be someone he remembers."

"There really isn't anyone else," said Eames. "I mean, there's no one who's really close to him that can do that right now, but me. We have a strong connection. I think he'll pick up on that quickly."

The doctor looked skeptical, but seemed to accept it. "All right. Try to give him a chance to remember you before announcing he has amnesia. You need to be careful what you tell him and how, try not to upset him any more than necessary. I wouldn't tell him anything until he's lucid enough to really start asking questions."

"Don't worry," she said with a small, knowing smile. "I can read him like a book."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

Eames realized it was almost 8pm as she reached for the cup with her soda in it. Logan had brought her a sandwich earlier, after learning she'd spent the day sitting with Bobby. Ross, Wheeler, and even the Chief of D's Moran had all been by to check on Bobby's condition, which seemed to be steadily improving. The doctor was even talking about moving him to a regular room tomorrow.

She sucked on the straw, a loud gurgling noise telling her the cup was virtually empty.

_Should I tell her how annoying and rude that is?_

Eames's head shot up as she sensed movement from the bed. Although Bobby had drifted in and out all day, he'd remained still and unmoving except for those brief moments.

"Bobby? Thank God. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

Bobby frowned at her and she felt his questions, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Do... do I know you?"

Well, there it was, the question of the day. How should she answer? While she was thinking, he frowned and seemed to be concentrating. "You… you were here before." He closed his eyes and grimaced, riding out a wave of pain. The woman grasped his hand and held on tightly, and he felt her support and her strength flow into him. Moments later, he opened his eyes, his features relaxed under the bandages.

Eames' sense of relief that Bobby was talking, was thinking had her feeling giddy. She reached out with her other hand and patted down at the patch of unruly brown hair that escaped being bound up in the ring of white bandaging . "You did that before too," he said softly, his eyes studying the grip she had on his hand.

Eames took a deep breath. His eyes reflected the question in his mind. What was their connection? Why was she there? She smiled, suddenly not afraid to share with him what had happened. "Yes, I did." She said as she nodded and grinned back at him.

"I'm Detective Alex Eames. I'm your partner. The reason you're here and are having trouble remembering things is that you were shot in the head while rescuing a six-year-old child from a building where a bomb had been planted." She could feel the fear mounting in him and she smiled as she squeezed his hand more tightly. "But the doctors tell me your chances of recovery are excellent and they really seem to know what they're doing, so I don't want you to worry."

She could feel the fear and confusion that was filling him as easily as she could feel him fighting them both. "What day is it?" he asked, a frown scrunching his face.

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise me you're not going to worry about anything. I'm going to tell you what happened and what the doctors have told me. And then I can tell you about us, if you'd like. But if you get upset, the nurses will kick me out and then I'll be forced to harass everyone in the building to try and get back in here, but in the meantime you'll be stuck in here by yourself."

The corner of his mouth twitched just a little. "Well, we can't have that. No worrying about anything... no freaking out, got it." _Okay, maybe I could have been partners with her. I've never had a female partner before. Have I?_

"Bobby, focus, you're drifting."

"Huh?" He looked dazed for a moment as he tried to bring his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "Sorry . . . mind's fuzzy."

"That's understandable, but maybe we should do this later." Eames looked at Bobby with concern. She couldn't imagine the number of questions and random thoughts running through his brain.

"No, just . . . you may have to help me stay focused. I want to know. Please." He looked confused for a moment, his brows creasing. _Crap. I can't remember the question._

Eames sighed and wondered how many times they might have this conversation before it stuck. At least it would pass the time. "Okay, Bobby, today is July 25, 2007."

Bobby blinked a few times and then took a long breath, letting it out slowly. She frowned. He didn't believe her. She looked around the room and finally found the newspaper in the floor beside the chair. She picked it up and showed him the date.

"Remember," she said firmly. "No freaking out. The doctor said your memories can come back, we just have to be patient. It might take a while and they might not all come back at once, but they can come back."

He looked up at her, studying her expression. "And they might not come back . . . right?"

Eames sighed and dropped her head a little. "It's a possibility."

Bobby swallowed and looked away for a second before looking back at Eames. "How did you get to be my partner?"

"You transferred in to Major Case from Narcotics almost eight years ago. Captain Deakins assigned us together."

"Deakins?" He thought the name sounded familiar.

"Yes, Captain James Deakins. Do you remember him?"

"Ah, I don't know. Kind of, I think." Goren sighed. "I think this is going to take a long time. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Eames nodded. "We're partners, we look out for and help each other. That's what we do."

Bobby smiled and squeezed her hand. "I want to know more."

ooOOoo

Bobby shifted restlessly, resisting the urge to get out of bed and pace. When they got him up to walk a few steps or to sit in the chair by the window, he got so dizzy he was sure he'd be in the floor if someone wasn't there holding onto him. The first time they'd gotten him upright, the dizziness had led to nausea and he'd puked three steps from the bed. Fortunately, that had been a one-time event. But he had enough sense to know better than to get up by himself until he was much stronger and more coordinated. He suffered very few side effects from his injury. His speech was unaffected as were his motor skills. Food didn't seem to taste the same, but he reasoned that could be attributed to the fact that is was 'hospital' food.

The inactivity was driving him crazy. Other than the few minutes he was helped around his room and up and down the hallway, he was bedridden. He was used to being busy, both with his body and his mind. Even though he was too weak and too muddled to do anything constructive, that didn't mean he wasn't itching to try. He ran his legs along the sheets, alternately bending and straightening each leg and wiggling his toes. Anything to keep the circulation going.

Ross had been by earlier to assure him his job was safe and for him to relax and obey all the doctor's orders. He kept talking about when Bobby got his memory back, as if it was a certainty. Bobby couldn't help but wonder what would happen if it never came. Would the NYPD still want him? He doubted it. He hadn't had the nerve to ask, not yet.

Then there was Eames. He didn't know what to make of her. She seemed very concerned about him, as if they had known each other for years. It scared him that she knew him so well. But he didn't remember her, he didn't feel for her. And that made him feel guilty. He was beginning to like her, but the differences in their memories made it awkward sometimes. He found it unsettling to deal with someone who knew so much more about him than he knew about them.

Bobby sighed and leaned his head back against the pillow. He knew he was lucky he had someone to look after him as she was. Eames watched over him day and night. He had to kick her out so she could take care of things she needed to do and so he could have some down time. Trying to revive his stalled memory was wearing him out.

Bobby closed his eyes and squirmed a little to get comfortable. He realized he was moving cautiously to keep from jolting his head. Somewhere along the way, he'd started doing that automatically, so that most of the time he wasn't even aware he was doing it. He really hated being hurt and immobile. As he stilled, exhaustion began to creep up on him so slowly that he wasn't even aware he was drifting off.

ooOOoo

Eames hurried into Bobby's room to find him sitting in the big chair in the corner. "Sorry it took me so long," she said as she set a plastic bag on the table. Bobby had been out of the ICU for several days and he was looking a little better each day. Although he still had the IV catheter taped to his arm, it was currently plugged and he was line-free. The bandage circling his head was much smaller than what he had initially. He'd asked for a mirror at the last dressing change and taken a long, dramatic look at the stitches in the side of his head, but he'd only commented on how lop-sided his hair was, choosing to ignore how close he'd come to death.

"That's okay, I told you not to hurry. I'm a big boy, now. I can stay in the hospital without supervision." He grinned up at her and she could tell he felt better than when she'd left. He'd had a headache, the _someone is stabbing me in the temple_ kind.

"You feel better," she stated.

"I do. Did all my whining work?"

Eames lifted her eyebrows a bit and then dipped into the white plastic bag, pulling out a small yellow package. "Peanut M&Ms, just for you." She tossed the pack at him and Bobby caught it in both hands, not trusting his coordination to try one-handed.

"Yes! Thank you! A man's gotta have a little junk food every now and again." He tore off the top of the package and snagged a couple of the candies, tossing them in his mouth. Eames laughed as she pulled the smaller chair a little closer and sat down next to him. He was dressed in pajama's and a robe she'd brought from his apartment. Both looked so new that she guessed they were rarely used.

"Happy now?" she asked, enjoying the fact that he was enjoying the candy.

"Definitely. Ross came by while you were out. They've charged the four rich kids with everything from extortion to attempted murder and they're pretty sure they have enough evidence to make it stick, no matter what kind of lawyers the parents hire. Darrell Griffith is still out there." The case was one of the first memories to return. Bobby thought it might be because it was the most recent. Everything about the case came back in sharp detail. The people he worked that case were indistinct shapes as were the other detectives that had stopped in to see him. He sensed that he knew Logan and Wheeler, Ross and Jeffries, Ritchie and Jamison, and others, but still the connection didn't come to him.

Eames nodded. "Well, at least they got four out of five. Did Ross tell you why they shot you?"

Bobby hesitated, chewing his lower lip. "He told me that Thomas Keller was the shooter. Turns out he's quite a marksman. He was there for me. Darrell felt I was a threat and told Keller to get rid of me and anyone else who looked like they might mess things up."

Eames stood looking at him for a few moments. "Do they think you're still in any danger from Darrell?"

"Ross didn't say, but I doubt it. His rich foursome of freaks are going to be doing heavy time, his money supply has dried up, and he knows we're are looking for him. He'll be laying low and looking for a way out. Besides, I don't remember any of this, so there's no way I'm a threat to him now."

"But he may not know that," said Eames, her worry increasing. "And he may just want a little revenge."

"Nah, this guy is too meticulous for something like revenge. He'd only come after me now if he saw me as a threat and I'm not his problem any more. At least until I get out of here and have a chance to study the files again."

"Bobby."

Bobby frowned and looked up at Eames. "He's responsible for injuring dozens of people, including several rescue personnel still searching the building they called in the threat for. It's just a matter of luck that no one died. They did thousands of dollars of damage to the office building that was evacuated and the area around the blast site. And we haven't even talked about the kidnappings. He's not walking away from this."

"Okay, I agree he shouldn't, but you're not going after him until you've healed some, understand?" Her voice held a warning that was unmistakable.

He looked at her as if he might argue, then relaxed his posture and flashed her a lop-sided grin. Looking down, he leaned his open bag of M&Ms her way. "Want some?"

"No, you go ahead," she said, relieved he wasn't going to argue. "I bought my own." Eames reached back into the bag and pulled out a bag of skittles.

"You're always threatening me Eames."

Eames froze, staring at Bobby as he studied the M&M package and then looked up at her. "What?"

"Why did you say that?"

Bobby frowned. "Huh? Say what?"

Eames took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, telling herself to calm down. "Why did you say I'm always threatening you?"

Bobby's eyes widened, as if he hadn't really processed what he'd said. "I . . . I don't know. It just popped out . . . and it seemed right." He looked down at the yellow package in his lap. "I . . . I don't really . . . " He trailed off, staring across the room as if in a daze.

Eames was holding her breath. As she watched him, she could actually see him remembering, she could see the wheels turning.

Bobby was remembering something… _remembering the two of them walking back to the car from a... a cemetery. The image switched to them riding in a car and this time she was speaking. He could remember the conversation like it was yesterday. "Bobby, you haven't slept in a week and you've barely eaten. You can't keep driving yourself like this."_

_Next she was waving a sandwich in front of his face as he worked through a giant stack of files in the conference room. "Will you just stop and eat before you pass out. You've been in here for over eight hours, without a break.."_

Bobby blinked and wiped at the sheen of sweat that had formed across his face. The color seemed to have drained away, leaving him looking pale and sick. "Bobby, are you okay?"

He slowly lifted his head to look at her, his hand trembling slightly. "I . . . I remember something."

Eames stood and took the candy package from his lap, where he'd let it fall from his grasp. Laying it on the table, she turned back to him. "Maybe you should lie back down. You look kind of shaky."

Bobby pulled away from where she was trying to take his arm. "No, no, I'm fine. It just caught me a little off guard is all. I'm okay now."

The color had begun to return to his cheeks and he looked less like he was going to pass out cold right in front of her. She sighed heavily. "Okay, but only for a little while longer. How long have you been sitting there?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe forty minutes."

"Five more minutes and then it's back to bed."

"I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are. Your forget I know you a lot better than you do, remember?"

Bobby furrowed his brow slightly. He couldn't seem to keep that fact in his mind. "Well, that really sucks sometimes," he said, almost pouting.

"Probably, but it's also come in handy a few times as well."

_Eames and he were sitting in a restaurant. She nudged him in the arm as they sat at the table eating dinner. "We have what we need."_

The room seemed to spin as it came back into focus and Bobby closed his eyes against the illusion of movement. "Yeah . . . handy," he murmured weakly. He was suddenly very tired.

"Bobby, let me help you back to bed."

"Hmm, 'kay." He opened his eyes, but the room still seemed to be slowly shifting around him. With Eames' help, he slowly got to his feet and they began shuffling to the bed. He didn't lean on her for support so much as he leaned against her for balance. The dizziness wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't getting better either.

When they finally arrived, she helped him out of his robe and then to get settled into bed, drawing the covers up to his chest. His eyes had slid closed during her fussing, but he opened them a slit to smile at her. "Thanks."

She nodded, returning the smile. "You're welcome. It's starting to come back, Bobby. Just be patient and I'm sure you'll remember more. For now, just get some rest."

Eames' smile twisted into a bit of a smirk as he let his eyes close and she smacked him playfully in the arm.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

"You wouldn't be so tired if you hadn't insisted on stopping at One Police Plaza on the way home," scolded Eames as she unlocked Bobby's door. She carried his bag in as he shuffled along behind her and made his way slowly to the couch. She caught his arm before he sat down and began steering him down the hall.

"Oh, no you don't. You're going to bed."

Bobby pulled away as he circled around her and went back to the couch. "I've been lying in a bed for . . . how long was I up there? It doesn't matter, for long enough. I want to sit on my couch and watch TV."

Eames put her hands on her hips as she watched him sit down and put his feet up on the coffee table. "You know, like this," he said as he grabbed the remote.

She growled under her breath. "You're impossible."

_Is that a new problem? I don't think so. She should be used to it. _He turned on the TV and began channel surfing while Eames sat down and watched him. She hadn't been able to read him very much today, almost as if he'd shut her out. He'd demanded to stop by the office so he could look around and sit in his chair, efforts geared to jarring his still faltering memory. She had to admit, the look of horrified shock on Ross's face had almost been worth it. It took Bobby five minutes to convince the captain that he wasn't trying to come to work his first day home from the hospital. With anyone else, she would have wondered at the man's intelligence for even thinking such a thing, but it seemed a natural assumption with Bobby.

He was switching the channel every five seconds or so and she was pretty sure he couldn't tell her what was on any of them. He seemed to be on autopilot. "Bobby, are you okay?"

He stopped changing channels, but continued to stare at the TV. After several long seconds, he turned his head to look at her. The bandage was gone, the fresh scar and stubble of hair just beginning to grow back was a harsh reminder of his ordeal, one that wasn't over yet.

"I still don't really know you. I don't know what I've been doing the last eight years."

Eames frowned, troubled by the depression she felt coming off him. "But you've been remembering."

He sighed and turned the TV off, dropping his hand with the remote to his lap. "I remember flashes of events that have no meaning. It's like watching TV clips of someone else's life. There's no emotion. It doesn't . . . feel like it's me."

Eames clasped her hands together and stared at them. She suddenly understood what he was saying. She had been so excited about him starting to remember things, that it hadn't occurred to her they might be a string of meaningless flashbacks. He _remembered_ that she was his partner, but he didn't _feel _that she was his partner.

Bobby glanced over at her, shifting his feet back to the floor and sitting up straighter. "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Even though I don't really remember much about the way we worked together, I do feel . . . like there's some kind of connection. You've really taken care of me the last few weeks and I get the idea that we're a lot more than partners . . . although I'm not sure . . . " He suddenly looked frightened. _Crap. I never thought to ask if we were involved. I just assumed we weren't since we were partners._

Eames smiled and shook her head. "No, we aren't involved. We're just really close friends. Bobby… well, we didn't connect at first, but I quickly came to understand you were going to be the best partner I could have for the kind of cop I wanted to be. After that, the connection came quickly. I know that we both had giant voids in our lives that the other just happened to fill." She leaned forward to take his hand. "We had something special . . . we _have_ something special."

Bobby sighed. "I just wish I could feel it," he said quietly, rubbing his forehead as he closed his eyes.

"You will," she whispered. Eames got up and pushed gently on his chest until he leaned back and allowed her to help him lie down. She brought a pillow and blanket to help him be more comfortable before fetching a glass of water and a bottle they had picked up from the pharmacy on the way out of the hospital.

"Take one of these," she said, offering him one of the pills from the prescription bottle. "And don't try to tell me your head doesn't hurt after all that running around this morning.

Bobby didn't argue, perching up on one elbow to pop the pill in his mouth and take a few sips of water before lying back against the pillow. "Thanks."

She gently traced her finger along the outside of the fresh scar, feeling the bristle of new little hairs coming in around it. Bobby watched her through slits in his lids, but didn't move or comment. "I was so scared I'd lose you those first few days. I know that most people think it's the other way around, but you ground me in ways no one else can. I know you don't really feel… _us_ yet, but I know you will." She pulled her hand back and looked at his face. "Rest. I'll be here if you need anything."

He reached up to take her hand and squeeze it, a small smile twitching the corner of his lips.

ooOOoo

Eames opened her eyes and stared into the dark, trying to remember what had awakened her. She could just barely make out the basic outlines of Bobby's living room furniture from her position on the couch. There was a sharp clanging from the kitchen. Her heart jumped into her throat before she realized it must be Bobby.

Eames smiled as she listened to him shuffle around in the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and then closed.

Everything went silent for a few moments, prompting Eames to sit up and listen. Without warning, the sound of glass crashing violently against the wall shattered the stillness. Eames leaped to her feet and sprinted to the kitchen, stopping at the threshold. It took a few seconds to find Bobby, sitting in the floor with his back to the cabinets. His legs were bent at the knees and his arms rested across them, his forehead resting on the back of his right arm. She could feel his despair.

"Bobby, are you all right?"

"No," he whispered. It was several moments before he lifted his head to look up at her, his eyes glinting in the gray light. "I'm not me any more."_ Crap, I hate this. My head always hurts, I can't remember anything. I practically have a stranger living here and taking care of me because I can't be trusted to function by myself. I can't help put together our latest case because I can't remember any part of the investigation. I'm going to lose what's left of my mind if this keeps up._

Noticing the shiny spot on the far wall, Eames decided her bare feet were safe on this side of the room and she moved over to sit beside him. "That's a strange thing to say. Of course you're you."

"Doesn't seem like it. I feel like I'm slipping away, like my life is sliding out between my fingers and no matter how much I tighten my grip, it just keeps… moving away."

Eames looked at him, knowing his fear. He hadn't forgotten his mother or her illness and but he had once told her that he felt as if his mother had 'been slipping away my whole life", and one of his deepest fears was that he would suffer the same fate. She hadn't thought of it like this until now, and her heart broke for him.

"I have this handful of spotty memories, but none of that really helps me. What if I never remember? What if I forget something that proves critical later on down the line?"

"Bobby, that's a lot of 'what ifs'. You're trying too hard. You need to relax and just... let it come in its own time. It will. Both Dr Gordon and Dr. Kirkus have nothing but very promising and positive diagnoses about your situation. It's just going to take more time."

Bobby leaned his head back against the cabinet and stared off across the dark room. "Maybe I could just hit myself in the head with a frying pan." The image of a frying pan coming at him full force suddenly popped into his head, making him wince. "Never mind, I guess someone tried that already."

Eames smiled and rapped her knuckles on his arm. "That would be from our first case together, and I tried to warn you."

"I'm guessing I didn't duck fast enough."

"No, you didn't. I just realized how many times you've been hit on the head over the years. It's wonder you even know who you are. Maybe we need to get you some protective head gear after this. What's your favorite football team? No, we should probably stick with NYPD issued equipment, I'll put in a request for a riot helmut for you."

She could feel Bobby relax next to her, a trace of a small smile creeping across his face. "Shouldn't you be commenting on my hard head about now?"

"No, this is more fun. But, I'll stop, and cut you a little slack. You look like you could use it." She reached out and put a hand on his arm, "seriously, just give this some time. It's going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. You're stuck with me Bobby Goren, because you're not only my partner, you're my friend. You may not remember that yet, but I certainly do."

Bobby looked at her for a few moments. "If I never remember you . . . do you still want to be partners? That is if NYPD doesn't make me go out on a disability related retirement."

Eames sighed, feeling the internal battle between hope and fear currently being waged in his head. "Ross told me if you started questioning the safety of your job to squelch it immediately. He's willing to wait until you're ready. You're his best detective and you have talents no one else does. He brought in a temporary to help with the case load until you get back, but he made sure everyone knew it was only until you were back on your feet. As far as I'm concerned, you are my _only _partner. We got to know each other once. If we need to, we can do it again."

Bobby sighed and gave a small nod. "What if I don't want to be your partner?"

She had a moment of pure terror before his mental wall came crashing down and he grinned at her. "Bobby! That wasn't nice," she said sharply as she punched him in the arm, again.

Bobby chuckled. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." The smile faded and he looked down at her. "Seriously, though… thank you. I have to keep saying that to you. Do you always take such good care of me?"

Eames pursed her lips a second before leaning her head over against his shoulder. "Actually, we tend to take care of each other. We try to be there whenever the other one needs us, for however long it takes." She felt his head lean against the top of hers.

"I think I like that arrangement."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

Eames's hand went out and hit the clock, trying to turn off the alarm. After a few moments of fumbling, she finally got her eyes open enough to see that the clock said 2:14 in the morning. She was trying to figure out why she had set the alarm for the middle of the night when she realized it was the phone. Moaning, she picked it up and pulled the receiver up to her ear, yawning as she tried to say hello.

"Eames, it's Bobby."

Suddenly awake, she shot upright. "Bobby, what's wrong?" Something had to be wrong or he wouldn't have called her in the middle of her first night home. She'd slept on the couch his first three nights home from the hospital, not because he wanted her to, but because she still harbored a lingering fear that something would happen to him or he'd need help and he would be there alone. He'd finally thrown her out and insisted she go home tonight.

"Nothing's wrong. Just the opposite, actually. I remember, Eames, I remember."

Eames ran her hand through her hair and tried to clear her mind. "You remember what?"

"I remember _us. _I remembered seeing Krusov with that gun pointed at you and realizing if I didn't do something quickly, he was going to kill you." _I was scared. _  
I've remembered more than I thought a person could possibly have in the head to remember. Everything, all kinds of other memories just came crashing in too, but the important thing is that I _felt_ what was going on. There were good memories, happy memories, and even the bad and sad ones, but they were mine. It was me and I belonged there and . . . oh, my gosh, it's two o'clock in the morning. Eames, I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"Bobby, it's okay," she said, laughing at his excitement. "Do you want me to come over? We can talk about it, you can tell me what else you've remembered."

"That'd be great. I'm sure I still have more gaps than memories, but it's really starting to fill in and tie together and . . . no, never mind, it's the middle of the night. Go back to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you nuts?" she asked, already up and digging through her dresser with her one free hand. "I'm not going to sleep after this. Look, I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Great, I'll make us some coffee. The good stuff, you know, my Starbucks supply."

"I'll stop on the way and get snacks," offered Eames as she threw the shirt on the bed along side the jeans. "It sounds like we have a busy night ahead of us. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"I can sleep tomorrow. It's not like I _have_ to go to work or anything. Ross won't let me back until the doctor clears me and that's still going to be a while."

"Okay, just... don't overdo it and make yourself sick," she warned as she jumped around, trying to get her leg in her pants.

"Quit worrying and get over here... partner."

Eames stumbled and fell back to sit on the side of her bed, smiling as she finally maneuvered her leg through the opening so that her foot came out the bottom. "On my way."

ooOOoo

Eames smiled as she looked at the litter on the floor. That Bobby had dozed off with empty chip packages and candy wrappers surrounding them on the floor was a testament to the binge they'd indulged in. In addition to how quickly they'd both crashed as they came off the caffeine and sugar high. Her eyes shifted to his relaxed face and she was relieved to hear the even sounds of his breaths. They were lying side by side on a couple of blankets he'd thrown on the floor, along with an assortment of pillows. They had started in the kitchen and migrated to the couch, only to end up on the floor.

They relived memories from their time together as partners. Some of the things Eames brought up, Bobby remembered, and some he still didn't. But he went through as many as he could, focusing on the emotions and thoughts that made the event a real part of his life and not just a random flashback. They had laughed, teased, and sometimes, almost cried.

They ate their way through pizza, potato chips, popcorn, Hostess cupcakes, and most of a bag of candy while drinking a pot of coffee. She smiled as she realized they should both be nursing stomachaches by now. But they grew to know each other all over again. She muffled the laugh that grew in her throat, afraid of waking him. This was possibly the best sleepover she'd ever been to and it was with a guy and there hadn't been anything sexual about it. How much fun was that?

Bobby groaned and turned over, throwing his arm over Eames' stomach and burying his face in her shoulder. She was so surprised, she didn't move until he had settled. She lay there, unsure of what to do as she noticed the gray light beginning to make its way through the window. Yawning, she decided she needed a little sleep herself, so she snuggled her head back into her pillow and closed her eyes, suddenly aware of how tired she was.

"You know I could never REALLY forget you, right?"

Eames smiled as she brought her hand up to cover his. "I know," she whispered. "Same here. Go to sleep."


End file.
